“It wasn’t really your fault. The creek rose overnight.”

“I meant about your father.”

“Oh.”

I wanted to say, But he was your father too, but couldn’t.

While I fed the fire he took his knife and cut some spruce branches for our bed and had it all ready by the time the food was ready to eat. We sat near the fire after the meal and watched the sky darken.

Tim touched my shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Lizzy, I’ll get you home safe.”

I would have laughed, what with the blind leading the blind, except that my eyes were flooded with tears and I had to gulp down a huge lump in my throat before I could choke, “I know, Timmy.”

Next morning, we ate the cold beans that remained from the previous evening’s meal. We divided our gear. Tim made two makeshift packs from the blankets, and we stowed the gear in them, with the two pots tied on behind like soldier’s helmets. I was glad to have the second pot.

We took a careful reading with the compass, checked it against the rising sun, and were on our way before the morning birds had finished their serenade to the dawn. As we came upon fallen trees, we broke off limbs to use for walking sticks and to throw at game, and each time we found a better stick we threw away the old one, until finally we were both armed with stout, heavy cudgels. We paused often to consult the compass, and made it a point always to line up two objects in the distance before setting off again. It might be a tree and a distant knoll, but whatever our marks, we did not allow ourselves to be seduced into taking the easy way around, which would have lost us our landmarks.

The hills were steep, and we lost time in climbing up them. But we didn’t try to thread our way between them, which would soon have led us in a circle. We kept our eyes open for game but saw none. When we paused late in the afternoon, as the sun touched the trees, we did so because we had come upon water, which we hadn’t seen for several hours.

“We’d better stay here,” Tim said. “At least we’ll have water.”

“You start the fire,” I said. “I think I can find us some greens.”

I had seen some pigweed a few hundred yards back and soon found it again. I didn’t want to exhaust our supply of beans any sooner than was necessary. I remembered that the entire plant was edible, including its stalks and longish pale green leaves. I gathered a large bundle in minutes and on my way back to camp was delighted to come on a young spruce tree which provided fresh needles for tea.